


Love & Notes

by Rixxy8173571m3W1p3



Series: The Fluffy Adventures With Your Boyfriend Doofus Rick [18]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: ASMR, Established Relationship, F/M, Glasses, Handwriting, Notepads & Notebooks, Notes, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Pens & Pencils, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt, pens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 07:45:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13713141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rixxy8173571m3W1p3/pseuds/Rixxy8173571m3W1p3
Summary: DWC prompt (the same that everyone is getting): Rick’s handwriting, or a handwritten note from Rick





	Love & Notes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hoodoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoodoo/gifts).



Glasses balanced on the bridge of his nose, he sat in the garage writing notes. One of his experiments had failed, and he recorded his findings as to why, and what his next course of action would be. Being the optimist he was, Zeta-7 was sure that he would get it right next time. It was easy to tell when his mind was busy at work, and running a mile a minute by the mess of words in his notes. His words would slant and almost run into each other, like cursive, without style, but detailed, trying to keep up with his train of thought.

When the necessary notes had been taken, he proceeded to rewrite them, with a slow, almost frustrating pace.

Beside him, you were penning down the ideas you had for your next book. Ugh, even if you wrote a little faster, your usual handwriting was more along the lines of spider scrawl, with spelling only you understood. Thank goodness you could type, or you wouldn't even have a job. Legible at best, your handwriting did improve with practice, but there still remained a childish curl about them, which is why you usually typed.

After a while, you found yourself just watching as his hands moved. Oh, even if Zeta-7 took a while to write, there was an art to it. Ornamental, his analysis was written as though he were describing a failed dance. There were passages written backwards, paragraphs in Spanish, lists of chemicals, even small drawings to remind him of what it was he had been doing. Small movements, vertical strokes, perfectly dotted i’s, enthusiasm pushed through a delightful conclusion.

Horizontal strokes, rounded curves, the rhythm of pencil touching paper, it made you feel a tingling sensation on your scalp, that moved down the back of your neck, and upper spine. Stop and go, as the tip touched paper, so were the sensations. You had not noticed when he moved on to writing about other things, but with your head resting on your arm, you sighed happily, relaxed in an odd way you didn't understand. Then, there was the silence which stretched on and you were wondering what had happened to the elegant sounds of his pen, and you took a peek.

You asked him to keep going, because you weren't trying to sleep, but listen to the poetry of sounds he made. His breathing steady, the rhythm of his pen, in tune with the world around you, there was peace. Of course, there were breaks in this peace, even inspiration would come, and again came the madness of pen and paper. Zeta-7 would pause to bite down on the pen cap, then repeat. You weren't sure what you preferred, whether it was the slanted mess of cursive, or the slow, melodic rewrites, but either way, listening to him make love to the paper was better then type.

 


End file.
